Band Nazis
by Food Service Girl
Summary: These are some paranoid, delusional thoughts about band camp and how THEY are trying to turn US into androids. Sadly, they all make sense...


Title: Band Nazis  
Author: food service girl  
Rating: PG-13  
Category: angst  
Disclaimer: yeah! I finally own something  
Note: These are some paranoid, delusional thoughts that happened to run through my head the other day about band camp and how THEY are trying to turn us into androids. Sadly, they all make sense.  
  


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Band Camp. Pmac Dnab.

I've tried to repress my memories of band camp as much as possible. It wasn't that it was a horrible experience... oh, wait, yes it was. After many hours of contemplation, I feel I can honestly compare my band camp to some sort brainwashing, communist factory. Odd, you might say, but let me tell you of MY band camp. Freshman year was, by definition, HELL.

The first thing they do is have us report to the band room at five o'clock IN THE MORNING. And this is after months of sleeping in late. My theory is they want to confuse us so nobody's quite sure what's going on except for the drum majors. It makes it easier for them to reprogram us, you see...

The other thing that gets me about that first morning is that they also demand that we jam everything we own into a single suitcase and a backpack. They claim it's because the moving truck isn't big enough to fit a lot of stuff in. I have to agree, the thing is rather tiny. We have to fit the band, color guard, and choir suitcases into it, plus the instruments and percussion equipment... but it's such a bitch. Especially when you haven't been doing anything all summer, and are now forced to haul around a fifty-pound suitcase. Here I think they are trying to remove us from any possessions that might give us comfort...

...which leads me to my next point. Unlike some other schools, we GO to band camp. It's an hour bus ride -in which everyone is totally dazed and confused- to this college campus. They are taking us away from what we know and love, just to confuse us more and make us more dependant on THEM.

Then when we actually get there, we are forced to line up with our stuff randomly strewn about and wait for our room to be assigned. Mind you, we are all stiff and sore from the bus ride down and now they are making us stand perfectly still and do nothing. Confusion... clutter... mayhem... this is what the early stages of brainwashing is all about.

After everyone has put their stuff away in these tiny little dorm rooms [12x14 for two people], we are told to go outside. That's it. No further instructions. So we sit on the front lawn for about an hour until the band director finally decides to come down. We are put with our sections then given three things: a drill book, three poker chips, and a track penny. They have one thing in common: a number. We are assigned a number to "make things easier on the field". I like to think that they are stripping us of our identities and forcing us to accept this new, controlled personality. With all my luck, I happened to get number 69. Did I mention I'm the only girl in a section of wiseass guys? Did I also happen to mention I play the trombone, aka the pervert instrument? [It attracts the perverts] Lot's o' laughs there.

So we are forced to sit on the lawn [EW, wet grass]. The sun is barely up and it's already getting hot. Nobody is allowed to move to the shade, just because they "want to keep and eye on all of us". They hand out highlighters to mark our number in the drill book, on every page. This is a mind-numbing process that leaves me disoriented and BORED. It's likely that the only reason they make US do this is to get us more "acquainted" with our new identity. 

Then they have us try to set up the first drill. This is VERY fun when you are a freshman and you don't have a clue how to even read the drill book. Not only that, but we aren't even on the field so there aren't any markings. This is the first of many times that's led me to question my director's sanity.

And then... there were basics. That first morning was a little hectic and we weren't exactly following the schedule, so my drum majors decided to pull basics out of their [cough]. Again, there is more confusion and mayhem for us freshmen because in middle school we were taught how to march differently [high stepping]. So we're given a crash course in roll stepping, harching, and a bunch of other military-esque commands I've since blocked out of my mind.

Finally, they call a lunch break. We were situated at a college campus, if you do recall, so this meant cafeteria food! There is a mad scramble to the cafeteria, which happens to be on the other side of the building we were right next to. Yes... it's all a part of brainwashing. They reward us for being "good". If they wanted us to, they could have had us jumping through hoops by the end of camp. Which they might of, repressed memories, you see, make it hard for me to determine what actually happened...

Anyway, the food is decidedly rancid, but at least I get to sit with my homebodies, right? Wrong. They force us to sit with our section. Bonding and all that fun crap. So now, it seems like we are not allowed to make any decisions. And let me tell you, quiet freshman + only girl + trombone section ≠ fun. The correct answer is HELL. I am still amazed by how much those guys can eat. 

Lunch is over and we are given a three hour break. Is it really three hours long? NO! Is it really a break? NO! 

But that will all be explained in the next chapter of Band Nazis: The Camp from Hell


End file.
